Catching up

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I've fallen behind in my posting: a reading in Eganville last Wednesday, a weekend away to go to a friend's 60th birthday party.

To catch up:

There were so many cars parked at the church in Eganville I thought there must be a funeral on. But no, they were there for the reading: a wonderful crowd of well over a hundred. I asked friend and professional filmmaker Jackie Levitin take videos. She got some wonderful shots. I especially enjoyed her interviews with some of the people in attendance. I'll post them eventually, when my Net speed is up.

I missed sketching out my five scenes one morning, but I have otherwise kept to my goal, even while travelling on the weekend.

For the last two days I've been an on-line guest for a UCLA extension course in writing. I enjoying thinking about and articulating process and will share some of it here where I get a chance.

I also came up with a title for my PEN lecture in San Miguel in February: "What: no panties? The 17th-century revealed."

Somewhat fatigued! We have much to do preparing for 7 house guests this coming week-end and a dinner party for 29 on Sunday. It's the Leo season: birthdays for both my husband and daughter Carrie, who will be turning 30!

On waking

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This morning the five scenes seemed like quite a lot. Perhaps it isn't a modest aim at all.

I woke thinking I should give thought to my "archives" — a lofty term for the boxes of papers in my basement. Might a library take them on? Now — in that between-novels stage — would be the time to at least inquire. Of course I expect rejection. One, I'm not a lit star, and two, I imagine that the days of libraries having much money for this type of thing might be over.

I must also finish preparing for my reading in Eganville tomorrow night. Yesterday I steamed my gown, and organized my props (wig, poke, bumroll). Today I will transfer the edits from my U.S. reading copy to my Canadian edition. I thought of simply changing the covers, but the Canadian is slightly larger. I might read from the U.S. edition, but without the cover. Or with the cover, and talk about the two designs. It's a wonder I get anything done at all with all this dithering.

I'll type and print out my talk onto cards: the ones I used throughout the US are now scribbled over. Too, I want to say something special. I've done this countless times by now, but in the three weeks since my last one in California, I feel I've never given a reading before. Too, a presentation before friends and neighbours is always more stressful than one before strangers.

It's also time to give thought, shape and title — that's the hardest part — to my talk for PEN in San Miguel de Allende next spring. I'm glad that they are so well-organized, that they are working on promotion so far in advance, but it's certainly far, far from my thoughts right now. I've set an end-of-month deadline for myself.

Beginning is hard

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Beginning is hard. I remind myself that resistance is the first stage of writing. This morning I described — in only a sentence or two or three — possible scenes in The Next Novel. I wrote these out on 3x5 index cards. I intentionally held to five scenes — five cards: a modest beginning. I want to start something I'll keep up. If I keep to five scenes a day, every day, I'll increase it.

This is the first stage of the "dream-storming" method described by Robert Olen Butler in Chapter 5, "The Writer Prepares," of From Where You Dream; The Process of Writing Fiction. He cautions against writing a scene out fully, even if you can hear the voices, see it clearly. (I'm not sure I have the discipline not to write it out, especially dialogue.) He says only to give one sensual detail, one small thing to hook the scene — a smell, a sound, a feel.

I read this book over a year ago, and the procedure appealed to me. I resolved that I would try it for The Next Novel. It's not out-lining, but it's not just jumping in, either. It's a fluid visualization technique that's somewhere between the two. I'm hoping, in this way, to have a clearer idea of the novel as a whole before I begin to write it next spring. (I'm hoping not to take eight years to write The Next Novel.) Of course once I begin to write, the entire thing will change, derail, veer off in some unexpected direction. And then one goes back to the cards.

I'm a sucker for systems, anything to offer a step-ladder out of the swamp. I'll try this; it appeals to me.

Managing the workload, finding time

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I'm giving some thought these days to how to manage my workload: how to carve out time to write. I'm a full-time writer, in theory, and yet ... . And yet there always seems to be a great deal of "other stuff" to do.

Since I've been back from my tour, 11 days ago, in addition to the usual laundry and cleaning, I've:

Unpacked (noting what got used on my tour, and what did not, for future reference).

Prepared the house and cabin for four house guests (making up beds; picking, buying, arranging flowers; moving furniture; getting DVDs for their kids from the library, etc.).

Paid and posted a month of bills and bank statements (this isn't finished yet).

Put together thoughts on The Next Book for a writer's group meeting; went to the meeting.


Read/edited a 50-page manuscript and gave feedback.

Sent a signed book plate to a fan in Germany.

Answered over 140 emails (fans, editors, agents, friends and family), regarding, among a number of things, the new covers for my Canadian edition, tour expenses, setting up promotion, contributing to an anthology, The Next Novel, writing a review ... .

"Refreshed" my To Do lists (this takes a surprising amount of time).

Looked into plane schedules for a possible trip to go to my sister's wedding.


Gave some thought to what to get my husband for his birthday.

Entertained wonderful house guests from Mexico for two days.

Set up the horse field, fixed fences, got my horse back into the meadow, set up his feed.

Started an essay for an anthology on ageing.

Had an X-ray.


Cancelled appointments in Ottawa in order to go to my chiropractor (it's a one-hour drive to get there): he's never seen me in such bad shape!


Rescheduled Ottawa appointments.

Sorted my expense receipts from my 4-week tour, wrote a summary letter, sent them off.

Puzzled over an incomprehensible expense fax from my Canadian tour: gave up.

Posted to blogs and social-network sites. Updated my website events pages.

Looked everywhere — everywhere! — for my good reading glasses.

Moved out of my new (and fatally flawed) MacBook Pro, back into my old G4. Backed up, erased and packed off the new but flawed one. Received the new replacement and moved into it. (Yay!) Bought extended warranty on-line.

Made calls about a reading this coming week; emailed the newspaper a photo and query. Fretted that nobody will come.


Reconfigured my 700-page timeline for The Next Novel: this was not easy to figure out.

Began reading four wonderful research texts, one in French.


Looked into the possibility of hiring a Virtual Author's Assistant. Began a list of things that a Virtual Assistant might be able to do (it's not long, unfortunately).

I've been feeling that I'm not getting much done, that I'm spinning my wheels, and making this list has been something of an eye-opener. And although it's hard to carve out time for writing, I'm writing this, am I not — when I could be writing. But I need this reflective regrouping. I'm pleased to be giving time to research reading, pleased (very!) to have my computer woes sorted out, to have a (magnificent) Timeline all of a piece and functioning.

I'm back from my tour and summer is truly here: I've resolved to carve out time for creative nurture, that important recharging — "artist's dates" as in Cameron's The Artist's Way: get on my horse now and then, reflect and read, read and reflect. And maybe, just maybe, begin to give some concrete (as opposed to misty) thought to The Next Novel. This Sunday morning, I’ll begin by going, at long last, to Quaker meeting.

Wise words from CarolineLeavittville

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I love this post from Caroline Leavitt's blog. I just sent a member of my own writing group feedback: "Better, but no." I've been feeling bad about that, but I'm heartened by Caroline's words. "No" is critically important. It takes time to find the right note.

Basically, my feedback was that it was almost all there: just cut away, cut to the heart of it.

I remember the moment I felt like a "real" writer. I had just cut the one scene I considered to be the best in the book. With every draft, I had marvelled at that scene, and now it was in the trash. Proudly, but somewhat bewildered, I walked into the living room and announced what I'd done to my husband. I had blood on my hands, as every writer must.

Manuscript evaluations and mentorships

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Gail Anderson-Dargatz posted very helpful information on where to go for manuscript evaluations and mentorships on the Indigo Community Forum. (And on her blog, as well.) Since that post will only be held for 3 months, I'm copying it here:

Outside my work teaching advanced novel and advanced fiction at UBC, in the optional-residency CW MFA program, I do take on private mentorships and manuscript evaluations for fiction when I have time, and if I think I can really help the writer. Anyone interested can contact me at books@gailanderson-dargatz.ca and I'll send back a sheet with details and fees.

Booming Ground (the UBC non-credit CW program) also offers a great mentorship and manuscript evaluation service with some of Canada's best writers, as does the Writers Union of Canada. Just google either and you'll find information and fees.

I'm also interested in hearing from other professional writers who offer mentoring as I'm often approached by apprentice writers looking for mentorship, but I don't always have time to provide it, and would like to have a list of writers on hand that I can pass along. If you're interested, let me know, again at books@gailanderson-dargatz.ca.

On mentorship, Gail explains:

It's just one-on-one teaching or guiding a writer through process. The writer submits a story or portion of their manuscript by email once a month over the course of several months. I use the writer's own material as an opportunity to discuss elements of craft. So I'll give notes about the manuscript that are instructive, and I also give detailed comments on the manuscript itself (using the comment function on word). The writer and I discuss these notes, and then the writer goes off to rewrite and prepare the next month's submission. Manuscript evaluation is also an opportunity for mentorship, so I offer instruction on elements of craft as I offer advice on how to improve the manuscript itself.

Mentorships are not only for unpublished writers. I enrolled in a Humber correspondence course while writing Tales of Passion, Tales of Woe. I was fortunate enough to have Carol Shields, a correspondence I treasure. I realize now, too, that I'm in the process of setting up a mentorship with Dan Smetanka for my next novel. Writers work alone, but it's important to set up a support system, be it a writers' group, a teacher, an editor, friend, family -- or (in my case) all of the above.

Ira Glass on Storytelling

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Chet sent me a link to an Ira Glass video on storytelling. Glass has a lot to say that's relevant to storytelling generally, I think, whether through video or book-form. In this video, Glass explains that there are basically two building blocks:
1) a story sequence -- "He did this, and that led to that, which led to ... " -- which includes a bait opening, and
2) moments of reflection that lets us know why we're spending time with this story.

Interesting. And so I watched the other videos. Number 2 is truly important for novelists, I think. The message is:
1) spend a lot of time looking for a good story (as much time as you make creating it), and
2) ruthlessly kill projects that aren't working, and get rid of the boring parts.
"Failure is a big part of success."

Number 3's message is: you will spend years making junk. Persevere.

I recommend these videos to all writers.

Research stimulation

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I've started percolating, thinking of The Next Novel. The process — which is scary, shapeless and bewildering — is greatly stimulated by research, about which I posted to my research blog: Baroque Exlorations. See you there...

Tour notes

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I've more-or-less unpacked. I've stacks of papers and books everywhere, thoughts scattered. Before I move on, I want to note down some memorable moments from my tour. There were so many.

Diane, my wonderful escort in Chicago, had previously owned a bookstore out west, not long before. She loved the Josephine B. Trilogy and had hand-sold lots. She told me how furious customers could get if the 2nd or 3rd in the Trilogy was not in stock. She and her staff came to call any frustrated customer response "that Josephine B. look." (I love this.)

(An aside: Diane and one of the bookstore owners got into an interesting discussion on the differences between male and female book-buyers. Men, in general: don't browse, need lots of space, don't like being crowded, buy non-fiction, don't discuss a book with staff or other customers, buy greeting cards in 15 seconds, while women will linger over the cards for some time. It was this last I found most amusing. I can't imagine buying a greeting card without reading nearly every one on the rack, but I'd never imagined that I was hard-wired to do so.)

One of the most moving things about publishing is when other artists are inspired to create something of their own in response to a work. I've mentioned earlier in this blog meeting Rachel Maes, who wrote "To Destiny," an 8-page epic poem inspired by the Josephine B. Trilogy. In St. Louis I met the director, Janet Park Datema, and dancer, Beckah Voigt, of the one-woman dance performance inspired by the Trilogy and performed in St. Louis in the fall of 2004.

Beckah, Head of Dance Program at Webster University, also does "energy work" — and treated me to an astonishing session. She knew nothing of Mistress of the Sun, yet during the session had a strong image of a flying white horse (which tells me that Diablo is still very much with me).

I loved meeting other authors while on tour. In West Chester, PA, I met Susan Holloway Scott, author of Royal Harlot, Duchess, and coming soon, The King's Favorite, about Nell Gwyn. In a Borders event in Wilmette, IL, I met Aimée Laberge, Canadian author of Where the River Narrows. I had blurbed this wonderful historical novel, so it was a pleasure to meet Aimée. We had previously met, but only briefly, at a Writers' Union AGM in Montreal. At another Borders event in Birmingham, MI, I met aspiring writer Karen Batchelor, a life coach who wants to write about her slave ancestors, and Philine Tucker, an award-winning romance writer who is now turning to historical fiction.

In California, I began seeing family at events. At Borders in Thousand Oaks, just north of LA, my sister Robin and her fiance Betsy (partners for decades and soon to be married this wonderful Summer of Love in California) as well as Betsy's mom Alma greeted me enthusiastically.

While in LA, I met, at last, Dan Smetanka — a brilliant editor who had been so important in the evolution of Mistress of the Sun. We'd worked closely together — the relationship between an editor and writer can be intensely intimate — but had never met. We talked in an exploratory way about The Next Novel.

The following night, at famous Volman's bookstore in Pasadena, I was surprised to see three people. First, Manuel Romo and his wife. My husband and I know Manuel well — we rent a casita from him when we go to a beach in Mexico every January — but I'd never seen him in a jacket and reading glasses and long pants, and certainly never expected to see him in California. He laughed at my puzzlement, "You don't recognize me!"

Then there was Alisha and her husband Andy. Alisha is a cousin's daughter (second-cousin, then?), and a dear family connection. She spends hours each week with the apes at the zoo and has learned how to communicate with them. I persuaded her to share this special language at my reading. I have it on video and will post it as soon as I get my computers sorted out.

And then there was Bonnie Sachs, with whom I'd shared a glorious week on horseback in the Loire Valley. We had a wonderful time relating stories.

Once in San Francisco, in the Bay Area, I was truly in home territory, a wonderful place to end the tour. At Book Passage in Corte Madera, I met virtual friend and author, Deborah Grabien, close family friend Andrée Morgana, who brought Suzy and Val from high school days (!), my brother's wife Jenny with her mother and aunt, and — now back in northern California — soon-to-be sister-in-law Betsy. I've never had so many photographs taken — they were like paparazzi!

Then, the next day in San Francisco, after a full morning of bookstore stock signing, I had a wonderful lunch-meet with historical novelist Christopher Gortner, who glowingly reviewed Mistress of the Sun for the Historical Novels Society. It's a special thing when a reader strongly "clicks" with your work, and the more so when that reader is a writer. Christopher's novel The Last Queen will be out shortly — I'm very much looking forward to reading it.

And then, at a wonderful last event in Oakland, at A Great Good Place for Books: brother Perry and Jenny (again!), aunt Dildar, my 90-year-old dad, Bob Zentner, who I induced to demonstrate in my wig. (Photo to come.)

Also there: writer, anthologist and pal Victoria Zackeim, her daughter and her daughter's two daughters (such a beautiful family), as well as — tra la! — three members of Books et Al, a book club that had read Mistress of the Sun in draft before it was published, and whose feedback had been so important to the final final final draft.

And thus came to an end a four-week tour I had expected to exhaust and deplete me, but which I enjoyed enormously.

This photo was taken by Jenny at this last event:

Unpacking

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I'm at home (ahhhh) and unpacking, making lists — lists and lists and lists. First item: do not get overwhelmed!

I did fairly well with all that moving: I left behind four things. One, my wireless mouse. Too bad, but at least it's replaceable. Two, my Body Shop face cleanser, which I learned I can travel without. Three and four, books I was reading and very much enjoying. The first, Conceit by Mary Novik, has been generously resent to me compliments of the author. Thank you, Mary! It's a story told from the point-of-view of John Donne's daughter, every sentence a joy, and I'm eager to dive back into it. The other book lost was Ghostwalk by U.K. writer Rebecca Stott — another stunning historical novel — which I left on the airplane on the very last leg of this long journey. I'm upset by this loss! This book was signed to me by Rebecca, with whom I read in Kansas City — is not replaceable. So, I add to the top of the list: see if I can't track it down.

And, also on the list: prepare to have my MacBook Pro replaced. Apple has seen the light.

On the way home

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I'm writing this in the San Francisco airport. I'm on the way home. The tour is over; it has been wonderful. The last event in Oakland at A Great Good Place for Books couldn’t have been more heartwarming. My dad was there (and happy to show everyone how funny and grand he looks in my wig); members of Books et Al, a book club that had critiqued Mistress of the Sun in manuscript; a number of family (aunt Dildar, brother Perry and sister-in-law Jenny); friends (Nina, Mary); writer friend Victoria Zackheim (plus her beautiful daughter and two gorgeous grand-daughters!); enthusiastic bookstore clerks; and, always so wonderful to meet: fans. I was smiling from head to toe.

I've notes on my other events, plus pictures and even a video. As soon as I'm back home and settled, I'll post them. Some treasures!

Plane is boarding ... I'm off.